Caught
by Copgirl
Summary: The Story is a Gift Fic written for Summermystradeexchange 2014 for Indigowallbreaker. Greg Lestrade is fancying Mycroft Holmes but doesn't dare to act upon it. When Sherlock finds out, he and his trusted friend John decide to help. The story takes place in Season 3, episode "Sign of Three". Thanks a lot Mapleleafcameo for proofing it. There would have been so many stupid mistakes.


"Sherlock, what are you staring at?" John Watson waited, studying the cheekbones and absent gaze of his former flatmate, before he called out again. "Earth to Sherlock, are you there?"

"Huh?" The consulting detective finally turned his head to look at his friend who had been waiting patiently for him to come back to this world.

"I asked you, what is it you are watching?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Nothing."

"Right. Can we go then?"

"Actually..."

"Sherlock!"

"All right. Look over there." Sherlock nodded towards DI Greg Lestrade who was standing near the crime scene John and Sherlock just had left. For the unheeding observer it appeared as if the Inspector was watching his team but Sherlock saw what or rather who the DI was really looking at. A few meters further down the road, Sherlock's brother Mycroft was impatiently tapping the ground with the tip of his umbrella, while a new doctor from Bart's tried to explain how a member of MI5 had ended up headless under a lorry.

"Greg is looking at Mycroft? What's so special about it that it needs your undivided attention?"

"John, he is not just looking at him. Lestrade is totally absorbed in watching Mycroft. You can see his eyes are following every move my brother makes."

"So?"

"Come on, John. Watch! He is almost drooling."

"Seriously.. um.." John cocked his head. And really, Mycroft stretched his neck and Greg's eyes lost even more focus before he licked his lips.

"He..."

"Exactly!" The detective turned towards John with a grin before he nudged his arm. "Are you hungry? Let's get some food."

John merely nodded and followed his friend to a nearby café.

Having tea and sandwiches in front of them, Sherlock was finally willing to talk.

"You might know, John, that when it comes to...um...matters of the heart, both Mycroft and I are a bit clueless."

"Oh, really? I wouldn't have noticed." John took a sip of his tea to hide his grin.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you," Sherlock huffed. "Anyway – to make a long story short, I think that Lestrade would like to be in a relationship with my brother." He took a bite from his sandwich, not looking at John.

The doctor allowed the thought to roll around in his brain for a moment before he replied.

"And you think Mycroft would want that?"

"He would never admit he does but I'm quite sure. Today there was no need for him to be there in person. He could have sent someone, anyone really. It would have been of no consequence. No, he wanted to see Lestrade."

"Maybe he's just a bit lonely."

Sherlock slammed his hand on the tabletop. "Exactly."

John rubbed his face with both hands, then messed up his hair. "Why are you suddenly so interested whether Mycroft is lonely or not? You never seemed to care about him before. What is it to you all of the sudden?"

Sherlock bit his bottom lip before he spoke.

"I never knew I cared for others before Moriarty forced me to choose. Either my friends or I had to die. It was horrible but it enabled me to acknowledge what I had avoided to see before. Suddenly," Sherlock fixed John with his most intense gaze, "I saw light."

John swallowed. He saw the moisture that made Sherlock's eyes shine. Simultaneously they reached out, took each other's hand and gave it a squeeze. Then they averted their eyes again, pulled their hands back and concentrated on their tea and food for a moment.

Eventually Sherlock spoke up again. "That day I stood on the roof, I would have died without Mycroft's help." He took another sip of his tea and the detective's next words sounded snappish again. "I don't want to be in my brother's debt."

"I can imagine that Greg would be good for Mycroft," John said thoughtfully, "but would Mycroft be good for him? I mean, Greg was really hurt by his cheating wife. He's a nice guy and I would hate to see him hurt again."

Sherlock shook his head so forcefully it sent his curls flying. "Once Mycroft makes up his mind and realizes that he cares, Lestrade, Greg, will have the most loyal and faithful man at his side. What he might have to fear is that people, who upset him, suddenly get shot or deported under mysterious circumstances."

John laughed before he saw that Sherlock's expression was without any humour. "Oh!"

Both men sat there for quite a bit, quietly drinking their tea and eating the rest of their sandwiches.

"Well then," John licked a drop of mustard from one finger before whipping it on a napkin, "what are we going to do about it?"

His words earned him one of Sherlock's truly magnificent smiles.

oOo

The following day Greg Lestrade overheard a conversation between John and Sherlock.

"Seriously, Sherlock. My mate Reynolds from the army asked the other day about cologne. Like I knew anything about that. So I ask you again, what kind of fragrance does Mycroft like? If anything, he's got taste."

Greg's pricked up his ears.

"Mycroft likes a woody floral musk scent. But that doesn't mean your so called mate likes it."

"You've got a point there."

oOo

Greg felt a bit sheepish when he left the department store the next day. The new acquired bottle XS by Paco Rabanne was stored safely in a bag and there should be absolutely no need to feel self-conscious about buying himself a new cologne. Still he blushed when he bumped into Sherlock just outside.

"Oh, err, Sherlock. Hi!"

"Lestrade!" Sherlock nodded and indicating the bag with his chin. "You've been shopping?"

"Um, yeah." Lestrade felt himself blushing even more. "Sorry, Sherlock. Gotta dash, I have an appointment at the, um, dentist."

"Well, good-bye then."

Sherlock for once didn't comment that Lestrade's dentist had his surgery the opposite direction the DI was heading.

He watched the DI scurry away before he pulled out his mobile.

_'It worked. SH'_

_'Amazing. JW'_

oOo

Another conversation between John and Sherlock took place a week later in the Yard's small kitchen, when they were certain Greg could listen without being seen.

"I was standing at the tailor's shop to look at possible suits for my wedding, when Mycroft walked in and decided to help me pick one," John said.

"Oh, did he?"

Greg stood beside the door of the kitchen, listening attentively, when Sally walked up to him.

Before she could even utter a word, he silenced her with a gesture they normally only used during observation. Of course it worked but Sally was rather confused when she understood her boss was listening to a conversation between the Freak and his sidekick. She gave Greg a stern look, shook her head and, to the DI's relief, she left him alone.

"He had the nerve to tell me, I'm quoting here," John changed his tone of voice, trying to sound like Mycroft, "a suit made from this fabric would look lovely on Detective Inspector Lestrade but you, Doctor Watson, lack the necessary physique."

John wondered if that had been a bit over the top but outside the kitchen Greg involuntarily sucked in his stomach and pushed out his chest a little.

When Sherlock laughed, John added. "The fabric was even on sale. Now the suit will cost me a small fortune."

"I think it will be cheaper if you order two suits made from the same fabric," Sherlock told him.

"What am I supposed to do with two identical suits?"

"I didn't say they have to be identical. I still haven't got my suit as your best-man."

"You and me in suits made from the same fabric? I'd like that very much," John said. On an afterthought he added, "but I am getting a haircut for my wedding. Just because your brother thinks wearing the hair a bit longer looks nice, doesn't mean Mary is going to like it, too."

"Since you are going to get married to Mary and not my brother, that is a logical conclusion."

They listened to Greg's quickly receding footsteps, when he hurried towards his office to cancel his appointment at the hairdresser and looking up the address of John's tailor.

A few days later Greg bought his first blue suit, which indeed complimented his physique rather nicely.

oOo

Mycroft was about to enter his brother's flat when he overheard a small argument between Sherlock and his ever-present friend John Watson.

"You didn't shave this morning."

"Great observation, Sherlock. My last shave was yesterday morning. It's a surprise for Mary."

"Well, I'd say she's going to be surprised. You do remember the disaster with the moustache."

"It wasn't a disaster. And a bit of manly stubble is a long shot from growing a beard."

Sherlock huffed. "Manly stubble!"

"Just on my way here I met Greg. He said it looks nice. He said he favours a bit of manly stubble over clean shaven."

Mycroft froze, his hand fluttered involuntarily to his own clean-shaven chin.

"Since when do you care what Lestrade thinks?"

"I don't. Just saying." John sounded a bit insulted. "I also talked to him about the suit I'm going to wear at the wedding."

"You're now getting fashion tips from _him, too_?"

"No, we just talked. Anyway, he said this dark-grey suit with the white shirt and the burgundy tie Mycroft was wearing the other day, looked really nice." John rolled the 'r' for emphasize.

The elder Holmes stood on the stairs to the flat, his cheeks tinged a shade of scarlet, when Sherlock gave John a wink.

oOo

Sherlock gritted his teeth. After all the efforts he had made, Mycroft had chosen to stay away from the wedding and Lestrade looked like a lost puppy. A lost puppy that was wearing a smart blue suit and was sporting a cologne that undoubtedly would make Mycroft's knees buckle, if he ever chose to get close enough. The DI had even managed a full inch of hair-growth over the past weeks.

It had been clear from Mycroft's breathing that he had just finished running on his ridiculous treadmill when Sherlock had called. Mycroft was stubborn, but not only was Sherlock stubborn, he was tenacious as well. While he tuned his violin, before playing for John and Mary, he made up his mind.

To everybody else it probably looked like he was fleeing the premises shortly after he had played. As if he would leave without his violin. Instead he went to get a cab to fetch his brother.

Sherlock picked the lock to Mycroft's house and went looking for his brother. To his surprise Mycroft was on his treadmill again, running like he was hunted by a pack of wolves. Very hungry wolves.

The elder Holmes was so very startled he almost fell off the treadmill when his brother suddenly entered the room.

He hopped down with as much grace as possible.

"What are you doing here?" Mycroft demanded.

"I'm here to drag my idiotic brother to a party, where a certain Detective Inspector is pining and getting drunk because he is there all alone." Sherlock stepped a bit closer. "Do you know there were three very nice Yarders who, if he had asked, would have loved keeping him company? Instead he sits there, sipping his beer and looking to the door every other minute, hoping you'll show up."

"I..."

Sherlock felt himself getting more agitated by the minute. "Don't give me that _I'm not lonely Sherlock _shit."

Mycroft's mouth fell open. His brother hardly ever cursed. That he did was a clear sign of his distress.

"You are lonely, Mycroft. And so is Lestrade. You two would compliment each other. Lestrade is a very decent man and would never betray your trust. And he has a serious crush on you. Though I really begin to wonder why."

Mycroft looked a bit thunderstruck and his younger brother seized the opportunity.

"Come on, Mycroft. Change into a nice suit and let's get going." He took hold of his brother's biceps.

Mycroft nodded, reluctantly. "Fine, but I need to shower."

Sherlock sniffed him. "You haven't been running longer than ten minutes."

"Fifteen!"

"Fifteen then. It's just enough to bring out your scent", Sherlock made a face, "which Lestrade will undoubtedly like."

Sherlock's voice softened. "Come on. It will either be an hour of watching a bunch of drunk people making fools of themselves or", he winked at his brother, "a night to remember."

Sherlock had to smile because the suit and the shirt Lestrade liked so much, were actually laid out ready. A few minutes later the brothers sat in the cab that had been waiting, heading back to the wedding reception.

oOo

It was close to midnight and Mary made a quick dash to the bathroom before she would go outside to toss her bouquet. To her surprise she was ambushed by Sherlock when she left the bathroom.

"Sherlock, we thought you had left."

"I did, but only to fetch Mycroft."

"Why...?"

"Mary, I have a request."

Sherlock explained what liked her to do and after a moment of consideration she complied.

Outside the guests had already assembled. Most stood lined up at the building and a few women who were interested in catching the bouquet stood to the side. Mary discovered Mycroft standing opposite to the guests between some rose bushes.

She quickly went to John and whispered in his ear to tell him about Sherlock's plan. John nodded, winked at Sherlock and handed Mary the bouquet.

The detective stood beside Lestrade, nudging him a little to the left to position him directly under a lamp that now illuminated the DI's face.

Mary grinned at all the guests before she turned and tossed the bouquet. It flew over her shoulder, hitting Mycroft, who instinctively caught the flowers, in the chest.

For a moment there was only stunned silence before laughter and cheering erupted. Mycroft had a clear view of Greg. The man's face had initially displayed as much surprise as the faces of the other guests, but when he saw who had caught the bouquet, his whole demeanour changed. The somewhat lost look that had been visible before, was replaced with a dazzling smile. His chocolate-brown eyes sparkled and the whole man suddenly seemed to glow from happiness.

Looking at the Inspector, Mycroft almost forgot the bouquet he was clutching. Almost. Until John called out, "Now that you have caught the bridal bouquet, Mycroft, you have to dance with the one you are spoken for."

The politician froze and looked like he was ready to bolt.

Sherlock shot Greg a look. He was clearly arguing whether he should or shouldn't secure the dance for himself. Before the DI made up his mind, Mary's obscure acquaintance David took a step forward. However, he fell flat on his face the next moment, tripped by Mrs Hudson who looked suspiciously pleased with herself.

"Oh dear. I'm so sorry."

Sherlock and John exchanged looks, both trying and failing to conceal their laughter.

Greg, who had made up his mind the moment the other man fell, finally walked to Mycroft and held out his hand.

"I hope you are not spoken for by somebody else. So, may I have this dance?"

Mycroft's eyes were wide as saucers when he finally nodded and took the offered hand. The moment their fingers touched, his panic subsided. Instead he felt an electric current shoot from his hand up his arm. He hardly felt his brother snatching the flowers from his hands when he walked to the dance floor.

The music started and Greg couldn't help but grin when Perry Como began to sing 'Magic Moments'. The melody was for dancing slow fox and both Mycroft and Greg moved so easily with each other, one would think they had danced together dozens of times before. During the first few steps, Mycroft was overly aware of the other people standing around watching them but his universe shrank until only he and the man in his arms were left. He and Gregory, who looked stunning in his blue suit and was smiling at him brightly.

Greg felt the same. One moment he was almost shaking for he feared he would never be able to dance with a man as skilled as Mycroft Holmes without making a fool of himself. The next he was wrapped in those arms and felt almost dizzy from Mycroft's scent and those blue eyes that caressed his face. They molded together perfectly and moving with the music, Greg was tuned to every lead Mycroft was giving for the steps and turns.

They could have left the dance floor after one song but they danced to 'The Best is Yet to Come' and 'Our Love Affair' before they stopped.

"Want to go outside for some fresh air?" Greg asked. His eyes, which ran appraisingly over Mycroft's suit-clad body, revealed that fresh air was the last thing on his mind.

Mycroft nodded.

It was still pleasantly warm when they stepped outside. They only made it a few meters away from the house before they stopped. Having longed for each other for many months, neither man was willing to wait any longer. Mycroft turned and Greg walked right into his embrace. Gentle hands engulfed Mycroft's face, pulling it close for a kiss. Their lips met and Mycroft's hands went to Gregory's round shoulders, holding and kneading in the rhythm of the kiss they shared. They broke apart, only to angle their heads a little, initiating another kiss. Mycroft's hands found their way into Gregory's soft, grey hair and the heady scent made him moan and long for more.

Greg was rather pleased that his fingers discovered a bit of stubble on Mycroft's usually smooth cheeks and chin. Tongues touched, teeth nibbled gently and before long both men were quite out of breath. Mycroft's clever fingers found their way under Greg's jacket and ran gently along his spine.

"I do have a room here," Greg gasped.

"Which shall not be used tonight," Mycroft told him. "I have the feeling we might, how shall I put it? It is a possibility that we would alarm the other guests." He sucked the soft skin right below Gregory's left ear, eliciting a rather loud moan from him.

Greg stole another quick kiss, that left Mycroft breathless and with trousers that suddenly were rather tight.

"Would you like to be noisy tonight?" Mycroft asked, nudging Gregory's nose gently with his own.

"Oh god, yes!" Greg answered, before he pulled him to the street to flag down a cab.


End file.
